The Power of Gabby Douglas

There
are two kinds of political athletes. The first, and most memorable, are
athletes who engage in the explicit politics of protest. This tradition is
marked by Muhammad Ali saying, “I ain’t got no quarrel with them Vietcong.”
It’s Billie Jean King marching for Title IX. It’s Curt Flood saying he refused
to be a “well paid slave.” It’s John Carlos and Tommie Smith raising their
fists in the name of civil and human rights. But then there is a different kind
of athletic politics: the politics of representation. That’s Jackie Robinson
the moment he took the field to break baseball’s color line. That’s Martina
Navratilova, all ropey muscles, forcing the world to confront a more powerful
kind of woman athlete. That’s Compton’s Serena and Venus Williams dominating
their country club sport.

Whether
or not these athletes embraced the burden, they carried the aspirations and
expectations of countless others. We can now add Gabby Douglas to their ranks.
The 16-year-old from Virginia Beach is now the first African-American woman as
well as the first person of color to win gold in the gymnastics individual
all-around competition. She is also the first US gymnast in history to win both
individual and team gold at the same Olympics.

Douglas’s
journey is as unique as her triumph: one marked by having to navigate the
racial segregation that defines so much of the United States. At 14, Douglas
left her mother, three siblings and working-class Virginia Beach community to
move to West Des Moines, Iowa, so she could train with renowned Chinese coach
Liang Chow.

In
Iowa, Douglas lived with a host family of strangers in a nearly all-white
community and thought she might be the only black person in the state. In the
very white world of gymnastics, Douglas also stood out. At most meets she would
be the only person of color performing. Douglas was home-schooled in Des Moines
by her host family, adding to this sense of isolation. Homesickness meant
crying herself to sleep and calling her mother in Virginia Beach, floating the
idea of coming home.

But
Douglas was indomitable and developed a reputation for the ability to actually
seem like she was flying on the uneven bars, earning the rather unfortunate
nickname “The Flying Squirrel.” She also had a reputation as someone with
potential, but a cut beneath the best gymnasts in the world. Marta Karolyi, the
grim US national team coordinator who bestowed the “Flying Squirrel” nickname
on Douglas, saw her as “an average good gymnast.” Douglas, however, wouldn’t be
discouraged. Her sense of comfort and confidence is visible in her smile, which
is as striking as one of her dismounts. Anyone watching women’s gymnastics sees
that many of the contestants look like hostages to screaming parents,
rage-aholic coaches and their own unhappiness. Gabby Douglas actually looks
happy to be there and through force of personality is congenitally unable to be
invisible. This also has political repercussions, powerful enough that the
largely sheltered 16-year-old seems to sense what she could mean.

As
she said to the New York Times in
June, “I have an advantage because I’m the underdog and I’m
black and no one thinks I’d ever win. Well, I’m going to inspire so many
people. Everybody will be talking about, how did she come up so fast? But I’m
ready to shine.” Shine she did.

Dominique
Dawes, the great African-American gymnast who won team gold in 1996, told USA Today’s Christine
Brennan, “I am such a nervous ninny. I feel like Gabby is my
child or something. I am so anxious for her to win. I know it will have an
enormous impact on encouraging African-Americans and other minorities to go
into the sport of gymnastics.”

This
is certainly possible. But far more important is the impact Gabby Douglas could
have in making people not feel defeated by racism, segregation or even
something as simple as loneliness. Now all she needs is a better nickname. This
is no one’s Flying Squirrel. With apologies to Paul Pierce, Gabby Douglas is
“the Truth.”